


Stag and Buck (Remix of Taking Game)

by Fullmetalcarer



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Anal, Blow Jobs, Dubious Consent, Erik Being Cocky, First Time, Honestly Charles What Are You Thinking, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-23 15:35:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11405373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fullmetalcarer/pseuds/Fullmetalcarer
Summary: A beautiful young poacher is brought before King Erik.  It would be a pity for such loveliness to perish on the scaffold.  His Majesty has other plans for Charles.





	Stag and Buck (Remix of Taking Game)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Deeranger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deeranger/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Taking Game](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8306485) by [Deeranger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deeranger/pseuds/Deeranger). 
  * In response to a prompt by [Deeranger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deeranger/pseuds/Deeranger) in the [xmen_remix_madness2017](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/xmen_remix_madness2017) collection. 



> A different spin on Deeranger's delicious fic.

King Erik surveyed the half dozen wretches kneeling in chains before him. Poachers of the King's deer. A crime punishable by death.

"All of them to hang except the boy," said Erik. "You shall have mercy due to your youth."

The boys mouth - his sinful red mouth - curved into an incredulous smile and he babbled words of gratitude to his sovereign.

Erik beckoned Azazel over.

"Have him bathed and brought to my bedchamber."

Azazel bowed and exited. The church condemned the Sin of Sodom and Gomorrah. God almighty destroyed those cities for their iniquities. Erik had no fear of Azazel spilling his secret to the priests, he shared the same tastes. Besides, even if he did, Erik held the prince bishops in the palm of his hand. Unless he buggered a boy on the high altar at Eastertide, they dared not act against him. 

When Erik had finished dispensing justice, he made his way to his chambers. Azazel had already dismissed his servants. Erik opened then closed and locked his chamber door. The boy startled at the sound and looked up, then immediately lowered his gaze. He was kneeling in the middle of the room, scrubbed to within an inch of his life and wearing nothing but a blue tunic. Clad in rags and smeared in filth he had taken the eye, even amongst the perfumed, velvet clad and bejewelled courtiers. Now . . . now he was a revelation.

His skin gleamed in the candlelight, pale as that of a princess. His eyes were as blue, no, bluer, than the sapphires in Erik's circlet. His hair was dark and shone like the silks of distant Cathay. And no rubies or cherries or the breast of the robin could rival those plump lips for redness. Erik was reminded of the fable of the Snow Girl.

"And the queen, being barren, did bargain with the spirits of the woods, and she leant upon her ebony window frame, and she pricked her finger so a drop of blood fell upon the snow, and she prayed the dark powers to grant her a babe with skin as white as snow and hair as black as ebony and lips as red as blood," he said.

The boy looked up again and this time he kept his eyes on Erik. He looked scared. He was probably about fifteen or so. Erik stood directly in front of him. The boy looked down again. Erik took hold of his chin and lifted his head.

"Look at me, boy. Tis a pity to waste such lovely eyes in gazing at the floor."

His cheeks flushed like the dog roses in June.

"I have spared your life, child. You owe me much gratitude."

"Yes, your majesty, I know this and I thank you and bless you and will remember you in my prayers until the day I die," he said, soft and low.

His accent was rather finer than Erik had expected. There were many noble families fallen on hard times. Perhaps this boy came from one of them.

"Stand up."

He stood. He was a good head shorter than Erik.

"What is your name?"

"Charles, your majesty."

"Charles."

It rolled off the tongue very nicely.

"Come sit with me and drink some wine, Charles."

"Your majesty does me too great an honour," stammered Charles.

He sat at the ivory inlaid table and Erik poured him wine in a golden goblet. He drank, obviously not knowing that he should have waited for Erik to drink first. A drop of red wine, less red than his lips, escaped the corner of his mouth. The tip of a pink tongue chased it. Erik's cock twitched.

"You are a handsome lad, Charles."

Charles' blush deepened to crimson.

"Thank you, your majesty."

"One might almost say, beautiful."

Charles said nothing. Erik let his fingers rest atop the boy's hand. His fingers were the only thing not elegant about him. They were short and stubby. Erik ran his fingers up the warm, downy, freckled flesh of the boy's forearm and under the wide sleeve of his tunic. Charles drew in a shuddering breath. Erik pulled him to his feet and drew him to the bed. Here Charles stopped and leant back, resisting Erik's hand. Erik could easily have overpowered him, but he preferred to persuade.

"I am your king, Charles, you must obey me."

"Not . . . not if you require me to do that which is against God's law."

"As King, I was crowned and anointed by the Archbishop under God's grace. I rule by divine authority. If I say a thing is sanctioned by holy writ, who are you, a peasant and a thief, to gainsay me?"

The boy stood in silence, lips parted, breathing fast, fear animating his features. Erik took him in his arms and pressed their bodies together. He felt his warm, slim, supple body through the thin linen of his tunic. He put his lips to Charles' ear.

"If I give the order a dozen soldiers will cut you down where you stand. I might have you racked to death in my dungeons. I could run you through myself and no one to say a word. Yet I offer you pleasure instead of pain. Do not refuse my gift."

He took Charles' face in his hands. His eyes sparkled with tears. He looked like a grieving angel. Erik kissed his mouth. He tasted of wine and youth. He offered no resistence when his King slipped his tongue into his mouth. Erik pulled back, catching the boy's bottom lip between his teeth and giving it a little nip and a little tug.

He pushed Charles onto the bed. He collapsed, resistless. Erik knelt down beside him and dragged the tunic over his head. Such pale skin, so much whiteness, fields of snow dotted with the golden flowers of freckles. He was thin; no wonder he was poaching the King's deer. Erik admired the slenderness of his limbs, his delicate wrists and ankles. He was all sinew and fined-down-to-nothing muscle. Lovely nipples. He was young enough not to have much body hair. Lovely cock, lovely, lovely cock. He ran his hands all over Charles, all over him, the boy gasping and trembling under his touch. He pinched his dark nipples and patted his peony pink cock.

"Oh, aah, oh, oh, mmm," he moaned.

Erik divested himself of his robes. He lay down on top of Charles, the boy's skinny, pale body seeming fragile as a flower in comparison with his own tanned, muscular frame. He rutted against him, their cocks sliding together, Erik fully erect, Charles half hard.

"See," whispered Erik, "It's not so terrible, is it? Your manhood's rousing well enough."

"It's . . . it's a sin, my Lord."

"Are we not all sinners through Adam's fall? Yet may not all sins be redeemed by God's grace? Are you denying divine grace, Charles?"

He gave his cock a hard squeeze. The breath hissed between Charles' teeth. Erik couldn't wait any longer. He flipped Charles onto his front and dragged a couple of silken cushions under his hips. He kissed and nuzzled Charles' buttocks; they were as soft as the damask pillows they rested upon. He reached for the flagon of warm oil and poured some onto his fingers. He parted Charles' cheeks. There it was, the pink whorl of his anus.

Erik blew a stream of air upon the boy's taint. He shivered and cried out.

"Now to open the gates of paradise, my lovely one."

"No, sir, please, no," Charles sobbed.

"You dare say "no" to your King? Well, I'll pardon you, my sweet, for the sheer glory of your arse."

Erik pushed his finger into heat and tightness. Charles fought for breath and scrabbled at the sheets. He fingered him patiently, adding a second finger when he'd loosened a little.

"Have you never had a finger up your arse before?"

"No, sir," he choked out.

"Not even your own?"

"Once, hnn, when I committed, ah, committed the son of Onan, I, ah, ah, ah, put my finger, oooh, in myself."

Erik grinned. "Did you like it?"

"Yes, oooh, but I confessed and, mmm, the priest said it was a, oh, oh, a grievous sin so I never, ah, did it again, aah."

"The priest probably committed the sin of Onan himself, thinking about you putting your finger up your arse," said Erik, adding a third finger.

The boy was so tight he gave him a fourth finger before oiling up his cock.

"This will hurt. It'll help if you bear down and don't resist. The more you fight, the more pain they'll be. Just give in and take it and it'll get better."

Charles cried a little. Erik kissed away his tears and pushed in. Charles was diabolically tight around his cock. Erik paused, partly to let Charles get used to being sodomised, partly to avoid spilling his seed straightaway. He rolled his hips, easing himself in and out of the boy. It felt delicious. Erik bent and kissed the wings of Charles' shoulder-blades. Truly, he was an angel; a fallen one due to Erik's ministrations.

Charles suddenly quivered and moaned. Erik had touched the place inside him that brought great pleasure. Erik kept thrusting at the same angle. Charles writhed on his cock, sweat gilding his body like the gold leaf on the pages of a psalter. Erik was losing control, thrusting harder and faster, making Charles yelp with every stroke. He spent his seed inside the boy, gripping his bony hips bruisingly tight and blaspheming like a heathen.

He recovered from the little death and pulled out of Charles as carefully as he could. The boy still winced and tears trickled down his scarlet cheeks. He checked his hole. He was red and sore, but there was no tearing, no blood.

Erik rolled him over.

"You're alright, my little sweetheart, no damage done. I know it stings and burns, but that will fade. You'll have an ache for few days, I daresay."

Charles was semi erect. Erik hesitated. He could have the boy finish himself off with his hands. Erik could bring him off. Then there was the shameful thing. More shameful even then sodomy. The cock and the anus were shameful parts, so to perform unspeakable acts with them scarcely worsened the matter. But the mouth was used to speak reason, to give the kiss of peace, to praise God. To use the mouth in a loathsome way was abominable. But he wanted to, even though it ill became a man to so do, to make of himself a vessel as a woman.

"I know what will make you forget the pain in your arse, dear one."

Erik slid down the bed until his face was level with Charles' half hard cock. He grasped the base with his fingers and took the head in his mouth. Charles' eyes widened and his mouth gaped. Erik licked and sucked and kissed and bobbed his head. Charles tasted salty. The boy's hips jerked up involuntarily. Erik put his other hand on Charles' hipbone to keep him still. Charles' gasps and groans were a hymn to Erik's skills. He was just a boy so it wasn't long before his bitter seed was filling Erik's mouth and trickling down his chin.

Charles fell back on the bed, exhausted, Erik spat his seed into an embroidered handkerchief and rinsed out his mouth with wine. He rubbed himself off with a cloth and carefully cleaned Charles' arse. Charles flinched.

"Have some courage, little one." Erik gazed down at the beautiful boy. "Ah, but you are a pretty thing. I'm much inclined to keep you for a while. I'll dress you in silks and velvets and adorn you with gold and jewels. You'll sleep under furs and feast like a little princeling morning, noon and night. What do you say, Charles?"

"I'd be honoured, your majesty," said Charles and gave him a shy little smile.

Later that night, the King slept and Charles lay awake. He'd send word to Raven as soon as he got the chance. He'd taken a massive risk, but Azazel's information had been accurate and now Charles was the King's lover and embedded in the heart of the court. Sooner or later he'd be able to get to Shaw, King Erik's advisor. Before tonight, Charles had thought the King might have to die with his counsellor. Now he wasn't so sure. Raven would say he was letting his cock rule his head, but she hadn't just had her prick sucked by royalty.

He smiled at the sleeping King, then turned over, bit his lip at a twinge from his arse, and fell asleep.


End file.
